


The 4th Wall Crumbles

by Lisquirt



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisquirt/pseuds/Lisquirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While in bed battling a bout with the flu, John Reese discovers another side of his relationship with Harold Finch. </p>
<p>Crack fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 4th Wall Crumbles

**Author's Note:**

> My first POI fan fic! Hope it meets the fine standards or it's predecessors :)
> 
> Only the spelling and grammar errors belong to me. Not beta'd. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by a story I read over 10 yrs ago on the Emergency! fandom called, "How To Mend a Broken Proscenium." by Linda Jeffrey. And if you are familiar with that fandom, all of her stories are a must read ;)

Bear’s head poped up from his doggy bed about 5 seconds before Harold heard the footfall of one of his employees. The steps sounded heavy. “Must be Mr. Reese,” Harold thought to himself.

Sure enough, Harold’s hired gun all but falls into the room.

He is not looking his usual sharp self. His hair is not combed, cowlick jutting out on one side, his shirt only loosely tucked in, coat collar half up, half down as if thrown on but never adjusted. Bags drooped under bloodshot eyes, unkempt stubble across his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. But worst of all, Harold noticed that John was not carrying a box of doughnuts from their favorite bakery down the street nor was he holding a cup of his morning Sencha Green. “How disappointing,” he sighed. 

Harold took one look at the haggard ex-op and threw him an annoyed glance. 

“Mr. Reese, I thought I specifically told you NOT to come back to work until you were completely over your bout with the flu. The last thing I need is to catch whatever it is you have. The numbers need at least one of us able to work for them,” he scolded.

“I don’t have the flu anymore, Harold,” was John’s low spirited reply and he dropped himself down in a nearby chair. “But thanks for your heartfelt concern all the same,” he added dryly.

Harold took another evaluating look at his employee. If his appearance was to be used as any cue, Reese sure didn’t seem to have been over the flu he came down with almost a week ago. 

“Well, if you're not still sick, why do you look so ill?” Harold questioned.

John’s expression turned even more despondent than as the moment before. He opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it moments later when no voice came out.

“Mr. Reese?” Harold prodded.

“You know, Finch, I was laid up in bed for a good 4 days. The first couple days, all I could do was sleep and try not to sneeze myself to death. But by day three, my mind started to get restless and quite honestly, I was getting bored. And even though I have 850 channels, there was nothing on TV worth watching.” Reese paused and shook his head. 

Harold started to wonder where this was leading. “Mr. Reese, I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to tell me I can cancel your cable subscription. Are you going to tell me what is troubling you?”

John’s eye’s slowly came up to meet Harold's. “I debated not telling you but in the end it concerns you too so I think you should know.” 

“Then stop stalling and tell me, Mr. Reese.” Harold’s patience was ebbing.

John took a deep breath as if he made the decision to finally spit it out. “Well, you see, Harold, like I said, I was getting pretty antsy I started surfing the internet. I figured there had to be something entertaining there, right?”

Harold snorted. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally discovered internet porn, Mr. Reese. I assure you it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

John threw Harold a knife stabbing glare. “Shut up, Harold, this is serious.”

“Yes, John, of course. I’m sorry. Please continue.” Harold amended.

“Ok, so there I was looking for something to occupy my mind when I stumbled on…” John paused and looked at Harold. Harold’s eyebrows raised a half inch higher urging John to finally say whatever it was. “I stumbled on something called… fanfic,” he finally blurted out.

Harold let out his held breath, sighed and swiveled his chair back to his workstation. “Really, Mr. Reese? Fan fiction? That’s what has you all wound up?” Harold shook his head. “Well, I’m glad it’s nothing serious.” 

Ignoring Reese’s bewildered expression, he continued. “We received a new number an hour ago. I’ve already been in contact with Detective Fusco. He is currently searching the NYPD databases for information.” 

John sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Wait a minute, Finch. You already knew about this?” His tone was incredulous.

“Yes, of course I’m aware of it,” Harold said matter of fact. “Really, Mr. Reese, there isn’t much on the internet I DON’T know about.”

“And this… fanfic… doesn’t it bother you?”

“Why should it?” Harold challenged.

“Have you read any of it?” John’s voice pitches higher.

“Some.” Harold admits.

John shot up from his chair and paced between Harold’s work station and the glass board. “I don’t know about what you’ve read, Finch, but some of the stuff I’ve read is a little disconcerting to say the least.”

“Like what, exactly?” Harold asked.

John thought for a few minutes. “Well, maybe it’s not all bad, per se.” A look a pride washed over John’s face. “Like for instance, I have to admit, the way in which people write me is quite flattering. Apparently, I’m sexy as hell, have a throaty whisper to die for and let’s face it, I’m a real bad-ass.” He chuckled in spite of himself. 

Harold just scoffed.

“And then there’s these stories about me and Carter. Finch, the shit I’ve read can only be in my dreams. I should be so lucky to get the opportunity to do the things with Joss I’ve read about! I’m talking kinky stuff, Finch!” Then his face wrinkled in thought. “I wonder if she really thinks about me that way… but that’s another story, pardon the pun.”

“Mr. Reese? Do you have a point you’d like to make anytime soon?”

“Relax, I’m getting there, Finch.” John stopped to prepare himself for his next tidbit. He crossed the room closer to Harold and dropped his voice to a whisper as if to avoid being heard by no one else in the room. “But then, I came across another site with stories that were… that were… about us!”

Harold took off his glasses and started cleaning them with a lens wipe he pulled from a drawer. “Honestly, John, I’m not surprised. We are partner’s after all.”

John’s frustration surged to the surface as Harold didn't catch on. He started gesturing with his hands to further clarify. “No, Harold, not partners like Carter and Fusco… partners…like… like…” John couldn’t think of an example off the top of his head so instead looked at Harold straight in the eyes and grabbed his crotch, _“partners!”_

Harold tossed John a bemused smile which was not the reaction John was expecting. “I see,” said Harold. And you find these stories… troubling?”

John tilted his head at the computer genius. “Wouldn’t you?”

_“Here we go,”_ Harold thought and took a deep breath. “I must confess, Mr. Reese, I have read some of them and I find them… quite exciting. You are a good looking man, after all. I find myself wishing often to see under your hood, so to speak, and see if the tales of your, shall we say, physique, are indeed accurate.” Harold cleared his throat but continued.

“And I, well, I must admit, have been a little lonely since I’ve cut contact with Grace.”

“Do the stories upset you?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer but perhaps this conversation was long overdue anyway.

John fell back down into his chair. He thought for a bit. “This is crazy,” he finally concluded. “I mean, _the real me,_ would be appalled, You have to understand, I was brought up strict Roman Catholic. We don’t agree with those types of relationships!” 

John was definitely fighting inner turmoil as he conceeded, “But the _me playing me…_ has to admit, there are aspects of our relationship I enjoyed reading and wondered what it would feel like for real between us.” 

John lowered his eyes as he wasn’t sure he could face Harold with his next line. “And let’s just say, you know your curiosity about my physique? Well, right back at ya. I’ve read about certain ‘talents’ you possess in the bedroom and I for one, would love to know if those types of climaxes can actually be achieved.”

Harold’s eyebrows shot up after that declaration but he regained his composure and brought himself back to the topic.

“It is complicated,” he agreed. “Imagine my predicament. The _real me…_ is in fact still involved with the woman the _me playing me_ abandoned. It’s hard to depict loss that you haven’t really lost.” Harold uncharacteristically ran a hand through his hair as if pondering the complexity of his double lives.

“And if I really wanted to exhaust myself, I can always remind myself that my real wife, playing my fiancé also played my mother at one time! The Oedipus complex is overwhelming,” Harold lamented.

“So you see, Mr. Reese, this is why, I guess, I don’t mind the fan fiction written about us at all. In my mind, it’s actually quite easier to digest.”

Harold’s voice took on his best suggestive tone. That tone he took when he was trying to convince Reese to do things his way. 

“Perhaps, Mr. Reese, you might benefit from accepting these set paths as well. It really does take a lot of the guess work of living out. This alternate world is about you, it’s about me, our faithful dog, we are very happy together and we still save lives.”

Harold smiled as his thoughts wondered to some of the more intimate scenes he’d read concerning them. “And you are so nurturing in our intimacy. How can I deny loving that kind attention. The soft and gentle side of a trained killer that only I get to have. Albeit even if it’s only on paper so to speak.”

John considered Harold’s words. After a few minutes he spoke. “Well, since we’re being honest, I find that genius mind of yours quite attractive. You surprise me daily. I love a guy who can keep me on my toes. And I’ve never met anyone so loyal as you. No matter how many times I screw up, you come looking for me and always take me back. And if I get myself banged up or shot, you’re there to patch me up.” John smiled at Harold. Realizing and accepting the truth about his feelings for Harold started to send warm and fuzzy feelings in his gut. 

“Maybe you’re right, Finch. I really should consider the benefits of this arrangement. There are many now that I think about it, actually.” A mischievous grin appears as John starts thinking of other perks the ‘written John’ had over him.

Harold started to return the smile but as if he could read John’s mind, a thought occured. “What about Carter? Do you want to re-enact some of what you read regarding your relationship with her as well?”

Obviously busted in his musings, John didn’t hesitate when he waggled his eyebrows. “Sure! That’s the beauty of all these alternate realities, Finch. You see, I can have you both! One site deals mostly with hetero relationships, where Careese, as they call it, is going strong. And then a few web addresses over where gay sex is rampant, it’s Rinch time!”

Harold let out a disgusted grunt. “Mr. Reese, you would cheat on me? That is so unbecoming.”

John gave Harold a contrite look.

“Don’t be like that, Finch. There’s no reason you can’t have action on the side too.”

“With who? Do people write me with Detective Carter as well?” Harold asked hopefully.

“Ah, No,” John broke the news. “Fusco.”

“What!” Harold cried. “Now that’s just… well… Oh dear. That just can’t be right.” Harold shook his head, “What are these people thinking?” he muttered.

“I thought there wasn’t much on the internet that you didn’t know about, Finch. How did that one slip by you?” John couldn’t resist the teasing.

Harold’s cheeks reddened. “Well, I kind of only filtered in the Finch/Reese tags,” he admitted. 

John gave him a look but Finch was quick to defend himself.

“Well, honestly, Mr. Reese, I am a busy man. I don’t have time to read everything. So I have to be a little selective.” 

A few moments passed. Finally a smiled cracked on John’s face. 

Harold couldn’t tell if John’s smile was in acceptance or once again teasing. “Hey lighten up, Finch, Lionel might just surprise you. He has his good qualities.”

Harold’s face turned equally wolfish. “And would you know this from personal experience, Mr. Reese?” Harold turned to his workstation and started tapping on the keyboard. “Hmm, let’s see what comes up when I search for Reese/Fusco tags…”

“Finch,” John warned. “Don’t you dare! Truce! Okay?” 

Harold swiveled back to face John satisfied he won that round. 

“Can we get back to the matter at hand, please?” 

“Which was what again? Sorry, I can’t remember now.” Harold said.

“Us. Where do we go from here?” John answered.

John and Harold exchanged a weird glance. Each embarrassed of wanting to admit what they were thinking and feeling yet each wanting to explore the conversation further. The awkward silence lasted a couple minutes before Harold decided to take the first step. He reached his hand across the desk and placed it on top of Reese’s hand. The sly smile creeping back across John’s face. 

John followed Harold’s lead. “So, are we going to give truth to any of the stories on the internet? Should we see if these people know us better than we do?” he provoked.

Harold gave the thought only a moment’s hesitation. “I suppose we can consider it a scientific experiment,” Harold suggested. “Although, I will warn you I am most likely not as experienced as you are in these matters. You, having been exposed to these sorts of situations during your time in the CIA.”

John slid his hand out from under Harold’s and threw them up in a ‘now wait a minute’ type expression. “Finch, all the flashbacks I’ve been privy to about my time in the CIA never had me engaged in sex with another man. Believe me when I tell you, as far as I know, we are both going to have one hell of a learning curve.”

That made Harold actually feel a little better. Even playing fields was always a good thing. 

“Okay, then. What now? Do you want to go back to your loft? I’ve read we’ve had some good times there,” Harold proposed.

Reese shook his head. “My place is halfway across town. No. Let’s stay here. I read a few stories about the library having some sort of converted office space with a bed for those nights you work late or for when you and I… well, you know.” 

Affirmation highlighted Harold’s face. “Yes, right. I remember learning about that as well.” Harold wiped his hands on his pants and rose from his chair. “Well, Mr. Reese, shall we go find that room and christen it?”

John was more than ready to agree when he was suddenly reminded of what Harold was doing when he first arrived, before this train wreck conversation took place. 

“Finch, what about the number that came in?”

Harold pursed his lips and let out a breath. “Hmm… yes, I think it would be rather selfish of us to turn our backs on him for the sake of our little science experiment. Please excuse me for a moment.”

Harold sat back down at his computer station and began to type furiously. Within 10 minutes, he tapped the last key with finality and sent his workstation into screen saver mode. “There, that ought to do it,” he said.

Reese crunched his eyebrows together in question.

“What did you do, Finch?”

Harold’s face bore one of his shit-eating grins. “Simple, Mr. Reese. I just wrote our number out of this story and posted it online. He is no longer on our list for today. And while I was at it, I wrote a virus into the machine rendering it docile for the next several hours as it repairs itself. So in short, I’ve just cleared our schedule.”

John rose from his seat offering Harold a hand in getting up which Harold accepted. John’s smile was from ear to ear. “See, Harold, it’s those kinds of things that I find so lovable about you.” John slid Harold’s hand out of his grasp and slid it into the crook of his elbow instead as he guided him down the hall. “Now, I believe we have a bedroom to find.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to see a chapter 2 for this. One where John and Harold awkwardly try to do the deed for the first time. But I'm not certain I can write it justice. Anyone want to take a stab at it?


End file.
